


The Wedding Planner

by Heathlily33



Category: Carol (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, New York City, One Shot, Weddings, Who Knows?, Why you ask?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2020-11-23 19:31:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20894939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heathlily33/pseuds/Heathlily33
Summary: *Not starring J-LoTwenty years of friendship had taught Therese a lot about Jacqueline: she hated the beach - more so if it was the ocean (sharks, seagulls, tourists, etc.), no cuisine could match her love for Chinese food (the less authentic, the better), she read many books but rarely finished one, she’d inherited her parents’ tastes for the finer things in life, and she was a horrible planner. The latter two qualities were leading contributing factors to her hiring a wedding planner. An expensive one. One of New York City’s most in-demand.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Idk what this is or why I wrote this (actually, I do know why: after a summer/fall filled with wedding stuff, I had an idea), but here it is. I’m not a one-shot writer (hahahaha really though, not at all...) so this wasn’t exactly in my wheelhouse. 
> 
> Anyway, here. Read it. Comment too, because I love that shit.

Twenty years of friendship had taught Therese a lot about Jacqueline: she hated the beach - more so if it was the ocean (sharks, seagulls, tourists, etc.), no cuisine could match her love for Chinese food (the less authentic, the better), she read many books but rarely finished one, she’d inherited her parents’ tastes for the finer things in life, and she was a horrible planner. The latter two qualities were leading contributing factors to her hiring a wedding planner. An expensive one. One of New York City’s most in-demand.

Her credentials were all according to Jacqueline, of course. Therese knew nothing of the wedding-planning world but trusted her best friend’s instincts. They may have been fundamentally different people, but there was a reason they’d been attached at the hip since second grade. And once she was seated at Jacqueline’s kitchen table, box full of “will you be my maid-of-honor?” gifts in front of her that included champagne and a silk robe, Therese understood where the planner was coming in handy - Jacqueline would never have put any of that together on her own. 

“I get that she’s good, but fourteen-thousand dollars good? Really?”

Jacqueline let out a deep sigh, one that turned to a frustrated groan when Dannie snorted loudly from where he washed dishes behind them. Therese had introduced Jacqueline and Dannie three years before. She’d figured they’d date, maybe even for a few months, but that’d it’d run its course by the end of that summer. It didn’t, and two years and ten months later, they were engaged. 

“Yes. I hate doing this sort of stuff. She’ll pay herself off in the long-run. She seems really excited about my - _our_ \- wedding, too, so that’s a plus.”

“Yeah, she was _real_ interested after you told her the budget…” Dannie added.

Though she’d never been made privy of the exact amount Jacqueline’s parents had promised her, if Therese had to estimate, she’d ballpark the number around… unlimited. They’d spare no expense for their only daughter.

“You’ll meet her soon, I’m sure. You’ll love her. She’s basically the coolest person I’ve ever met.”

———

Soon happened to be sooner rather than later. Two weeks after her maid-of-honor proposal, Jacqueline enlisted Therese’s help, a fulfillment of her duties, apparently. An unexpected conference call was going to hold Jacqueline up at work well past 5pm - the time that her and Dannie were supposed to meet the wedding planner at a potential venue. She trusted Dannie, but she trusted Therese more. Therese had heard Jacqueline talk about her dream wedding for the better part of two decades. She knew what Jacqueline wanted. 

The somewhat drab elevator in the mixed-use building in Greenpoint confused Therese, but her and Dannie took it up to the last floor, the twelfth, without a word. The room that the doors opened into provided a better idea of why they were there. The concrete floors were clean and unremarkable, but the walls rose up at least twenty-five feet, exposed brick covered in wearing-away white paint and a staircase leading to a platform with a door that seemingly opened to the outside. To the roof, perhaps.

It was lofty and vintage and pseudo-industrial and Jacqueline’s Pinterest come to life. 

“Dannie! And person-who-isn’t-Jacqueline…” A voice called out from behind them, echoing a bit through the empty space. 

Therese was met with two women approaching them when she turned around. It wasn’t hard to determine which person was the subject of Jacqueline’s not-so-secret girl-crush. The person on the left was pretty and clean-cut. The woman next to her was _beautiful._ Stunning. Blonde-without-the-bombshell, in favor of a more razorlike edge. She was clad in perfectly tailored navy pants and a similarly snuggly fit navy blazer, just a white t shirt underneath. Her heels made a more ostentatious sound against the floor than Therese’s did. And all the while, Therese felt as though _she_ was the one being stared at. 

“Carol Aird.” A hand came out and gave Therese a firm but slightly, almost undetectably, lingering shake. “You must be the maid-of-honor.”

“I am. Therese, by the way. Did Jacqueline mention I was coming?”

“No.”

The question of ‘_then how did you know I was the maid-of-honor_’ never had time to leave Therese’s lips, because Carol Aird was turning to her companion, thanking her and telling her she’d “take it from here.” Dannie saw the puzzlement on Therese’s face though, and whispered, “maybe she’s a clairvoyant too.”

Carol walked them through the space - it was just where guests would be received, just an entryway. They walked up the staircase - it would all be flowers, “every bit, covered.” The door on the upper landing _did_ lead to the roof - well, the reconstructed pre-war greenhouse that sat upon the roof, to be exact. It was large and functional and still allowed for people to walk outside, onto the actual rooftop where there were unobstructed views of the Manhattan skyline. 

“This is it.” Therese just knew. It was flamboyant enough while still maintaining its elegance. “This is what Jacqueline wants.”

Carol seemed satisfied, but unsurprised, that she’d found a winning venue on her first try.

———

Part of Carol’s job as a full-service wedding planner involved helping Therese plan what she needed on her end, as well. 

It was new territory for Therese. She’d grown up without siblings, Jacqueline being the closest thing. Her family was unstable, at best, and had next to nothing, where Jacqueline’s was tight-knit and overflowing with wealth. It had been shocking for Therese, the first time she’d gone to Jacqueline’s house for a play date when they were seven, but she quickly adapted, because fuck if she didn’t want to spend every weekend there from that day on. 

But now she was Jacqueline’s sister, essentially, no question the person who would be planning her bachelorette weekend, and it all seemed…

“Overwhelming?” It was the blank filled-in by Carol when they’d chatted for a few minutes after touring the venue. “I know. Listen, I love planning weddings - obviously - it’s almost my entire life, but…” Her gaze moved from side-to-side, like she was telling Therese a secret. “This shit’s getting ridiculous. I could do so many more weddings at much lower costs if I wasn’t so busy planning parties and showers and wedding ‘weekends’ that are like summer camps. Brainstorm ideas for whatever Jacqueline will want for her bachelorette-whatever. If you need anything, call or text me.”

She was given a business card with Carol’s personal number written in pen on the back. 

———

It wasn’t long after that Therese saw Carol again. She hadn’t texted her. Yet. Even though Carol insisted it was in her job description, Therese didn’t want to bother her. But she was delighted to find Carol sitting - still a fucking vision, like the first time they’d met - on Jacqueline’s sofa when she’d walked into her apartment one Saturday afternoon. 

Therese had come by to give her save-the-date previews (graphic design wasn’t Therese’s usual medium, but she had a knack for it and agreed to do Jacqueline’s save-the-dates and invitations as part of her wedding gift). Carol was there to discuss photographers, a decision made before Therese had walked through the door. One of Carol’s best friends, as luck would have it, happened to be one of the photographers Jacqueline had her eye on, so not much had to be discussed, and Therese arrived in time for Jacqueline to shower more praise upon Carol for performing what seemed like small acts of magic. 

There was praise left for Therese too, for her “perfect” save-the-date cards. Even Carol seemed impressed, which didn’t feel possible. She’d no doubt worked with plenty of designers with far more experience than Therese. 

“These are wonderful,” Carol said it again when Jacqueline left the room to answer a call from her mother. “You said you’re a photographer, right?”

Therese had mentioned it once before, that she worked as an event photographer - not for weddings or anything like that, usually concerts and sporting events - which often bled into photojournalism - protests, political rallies, the stuff that the New York Times sometimes hired her for. 

“Do you have a card?” Carol was packing up, getting ready to head out, and smiled when Therese handed her a business card. She said she just wanted to see her work. 

Not quite letting her make it out of the door, Therese stopped her to ask, “how did you know I was Jacqueline’s maid-of-honor when we first met? You said she didn’t tell you.”

“Jacqueline asked me if she’d regret picking her most beautiful friend to be her maid-of-honor. When I saw you, it wasn’t exactly hard to figure out.”

She closed the door behind her and left it at that.

———

There were other times in the winter and spring that Therese crossed paths with Carol. All for Jacqueline’s wedding, because why else? 

Seeking the approval of someone besides herself (because sometimes Dannie was a lost cause), Jacqueline took Therese with her and Carol to a few florist appointments. Therese learned that the flowers would cost more than Carol did - apparently ten percent of the overall budget was standard, though it still seemed mind blowing. She learned that double-late tulips and dahlias would be a much more reasonable seasonal-alternative to peonies in the giant hanging floral arrangements Carol and Jacqueline had insisted upon, and that the latter were Carol’s favorite flower. 

When Jacqueline was whisked away by the florist, Therese’s information gathering shifted from flower knowledge to more about Carol. Carol’s office - she had one, she promised - was on east 23rd, right by Madison Square Park, but she lived in Ridgewood, off Fresh Pond Road.

“Like, second-to-last-stop-on-the-M-train?”

It wasn’t where Therese expected. At all. She’d pictured Carol living on the Lower East Side. Or maybe in SoHo or West Village. Somewhere posh and enviable, for sure, and decidedly downtown. Not Queens. Or if Queens, then Astoria. But Ridgewood?

Carol just laughed. “Yes, there.”

“But _why_?”

Jacqueline came back and interrupted before Therese could get an answer. She’d found her florist. 

There was the time that all of Jacqueline’s bridesmaids went to try on their dresses and get fitted for alterations. Carol came, waiting patiently on the couch, preoccupied by her phone most of the time. Jacqueline was busy helping Genevieve, Ruby and Lola were being poked and prodded by a tailor. 

That left Carol to help Therese. “Hey, do you mind zipping me up?”

Carol glanced up from her phone and Therese swore she was hiding a smile. “Of course.” 

The dresses weren’t ugly or anything, just a little bland. She liked the color at least, a dark teal that would go well with the cooler late fall weather. “These dresses are so boring.”

Finishing the clasp at the back, Carol said, “well, I’d probably choose something similar if I were Jacqueline. How else is she supposed to get the attention away from you?”

Therese nearly fainted. She paused, a little too long, but was ready with a reply. She’d come up with it after Carol’s first compliment to her when they’d been at Jacqueline’s apartment. Therese never thought such an easy opportunity would present itself, though. “If she was so concerned with having all eyes on her, then I doubt she’d be dumb enough to let you anywhere near her wedding.”

The glint in Carol’s eyes was obvious, she seemed surprised, too, and Therese felt more than satisfied with herself. Even though she didn’t want to change the subject, Therese couldn’t help but break the silence, it had become deafening as they stared. 

“I want shoes like yours for the wedding.”

Carol stepped back a bit and made a joke about them being sort of old. They were Jimmy Choos and from a time when she, “used to live lavishly, but then - ”

The tailor cut Carol off with information about when the dresses would be available to pick up and exactly how they needed to be properly cleaned. 

Throughout the months of planning, Therese _did_ wind up using Carol for a little help of her own. She was new to everything, and didn’t know the protocol of how many or few decisions she was supposed to make regarding Jacqueline’s bachelorette party - _weekend._ Bachelorette weekend. 

A couple handfuls of weeks out, in late July, after the Airbnb had been booked and flights coordinated, and all of Jacqueline’s friends counting down the days, Therese called Carol for more guidance. 

“Do I have to plan for everyone to buy Jacqueline gifts?”

If so, _Jesus_ was there a lot of gift giving that went into weddings. 

“Absolutely not. Especially considering not all of Jacqueline’s and your friends are as...well off as Jacqueline. Sometimes girls do lingerie gifts but it’s definitely not necessary. I know she isn’t expecting it.”

Therese sighed in relief, because that would’ve been a whole other thing, many of their friends already shelling out more money than they wanted to travel to Austin in September and later to New York for the wedding. 

“Great. Sorry to bother you about this again.”

“Not bothered in the slightest. In fact, I meant to call you.”

With piqued interest, Therese waited for more.

“I was wondering…would you want to get a drink sometime?”

A drink sometime. A drink sometime with Carol. Did Therese want to? She almost felt like calling Carol stupid for having to ask. How could she not want to? And they way she’d asked, the slight hesitation, didn’t leave room for interpretation; she wasn’t just asking Therese to hang out because she needed friends - it was a date. Therese was proud of herself for not dying before she could accept. But then she remembered Jacqueline and just how angry she would be at Therese if she found out Therese was doing _anything_ recreationally with her very expensive wedding planner.

“Oh. God, Carol, I really want to but I just know Jacqueline would freak out. But I - ”

“_Ah,_ right. Got it. I don’t know why I didn’t even think about that.”

“If it weren’t the case I would absolutely - ”

Therese wanted to cry, to throw her phone across the room out of frustration over the entire situation. And Carol was so understanding. 

“No, I totally get it. Actually, consider my invitation officially rescinded. I didn’t mean to put you in a weird spot.”

Their conversation ended quickly, but not awkwardly, all thanks to Carol, and Therese faced an unsettling mixture of excitement and dread over the next time she’d see Carol. 

———

There was no reason to dread seeing Carol, because Carol gave Therese no reason to feel uncomfortable when they saw one another after. Everything was more than normal, really. In fact, Carol acted like nothing had happened, and Therese began to wonder if she’d dreamt the latter portion of the phone call. She hadn’t, of course, but she might as well have. It almost made Therese feel worse, because she was the only one left devastated by her forced rejection. It made sense, though. Carol likely had plenty of other options. Therese herself was probably one of those second or third or fourth choices, for all she knew. 

She saw Carol once when she’d tagged along to help Jacqueline with the seating chart. The seating chart was difficult, Carol made sure that being around Therese wasn’t. Therese still felt awful, trying her best not to feel resentful, but at least nothing was strange on the surface. When Jacqueline got up to go to the bathroom, leaving them alone, there wasn’t an awkward silence to speak of. Carol joked about Jacqueline’s dedicated high-school-friends-I-felt-obligated-to-invite table and begged Therese to convince Jacqueline to get the lip injections she wanted to get as soon as possible, so she had time to get used to them. 

Two weeks before Jacqueline’s bachelorette thing (Therese had reconciled that she’d agonize over the trip until it was happening, and then she’d inevitably have fun, but until then…) was her bridal shower, which took Therese a while to understand also included Dannie. His parents did front the bill, after all, and his mom was _technically_ hosting it, even if it was on the outdoor patio of a restaurant in Brooklyn and Carol was the person who’d coordinated every decoration. She really fucking knew how to set the perfect table. 

Remembering just how much of both Dannie’s and Jacqueline’s families were in attendance, Therese glared down at her dress and wondered if it was too short. She’d intended on taking advantage of one of the last truly hot weekends of the summer, but was left questioning her decision.

That was, until Carol slowly drifted over to her, face not leaving her phone once as she furiously typed away on its keyboard, stopping only when she was in front of Therese. She glanced up, very briefly, and said, “well _you_ look fantastic,” smiled, and walked away to find Dannie’s mother. 

Later, when Carol was talking to Jacqueline, Therese, and the other bridesmaids, asking specifics about their trip to Austin, she was summoned by her coworker - another event planner named Abby who worked on her team. Carol had made the mistake of setting her phone down for more than a couple of minutes, and Abby pulled her aside because it had been ringing nonstop. Suddenly a little distraught, Carol excused herself and stepped outside.

“Everything okay?” Jacqueline asked.

Abby sighed and did her best to wave it off. This was Jacqueline’s (and Dannie’s, not to be forgotten) day, and they shouldn’t worry about Carol. “It’s fine. Just…mom stuff. It’s tough, sometimes, being a single parent.”

Parent?

“Carol has a kid?” Genevieve was surprised, but intrigued. She’d caught the Carol-admiration bug just like Jacqueline had. 

“Yes, she has a five-year-old daughter.” Jacqueline gazed at the group of friends around her, slightly appalled. Therese knew that even she couldn’t hide her shock. “Unbelievable. She’s mentioned it before, I’m sure. You guys are all idiots, I swear.”

She hadn’t. Therese certainly would’ve remembered. She remembered everything Carol told her, savoring every scrap of information. It made sense, though. Carol lived in Queens in a neighborhood that wasn’t trendy and bustling and under constant development because Ridgewood offered more space and more quiet. Carol said she used to “live lavishly” and likely didn’t anymore because she had a kid. It explained how tired and attached to her phone Carol always was, too.

Abby laughed and added, “even not having some extra emotional support is hard. Carol needs a girlfriend - she won’t admit it, though. So, if any of you happen to know of anybody…” 

Therese looked at Jacqueline and Jacqueline stared back, and for a second, it seemed like Jacqueline would point out what should’ve been the obvious, but instead she said, “we’ll keep our ears open.”

———

“Can I ask you something?”

Apparently around 9:30pm, walking down South Congress, drunk-but-not-too-drunk (it had been the vibe all day and night), was a great time for Jacqueline to prompt Therese. 

“Okay…”

“Did Carol ever ask you to hang out? And, I mean, like, _hang out?”_

“Oh. Well…” Therese felt stuck. She didn’t want to make Jacqueline upset with Carol, but she didn’t want to lie. And if Jacqueline was asking, it seemed like she knew something. “Yeah. But we both realized it was a bad idea. I told her I knew that you wouldn’t like that and she immediately agreed. I promise. I, like, shut it down.”

Jacqueline stopped. She looked _horrified._ Rightfully so because, “oh _no._ What? Therese, she talked to me about it. I told her I thought it was the best idea! What is wrong with you? Carol’s, like, my favorite person. If I didn’t need her to coordinate my wedding day I’d replace all of you with her. _Jesus.”_

And then Therese was horrified too. Horrified because if Carol had asked Jacqueline outright if she could ask Therese to get a drink with her, then Therese probably sounded like she was making up the most flimsy excuse in order to reject her. It was all a mess, but Jacqueline was shoving her phone into her hand saying, “you need to call her - _now.”_ “Now?” “Yes, now. Partly because I can’t have my wedding planner mad at my maid-of-honor and partly because I know you want to. Mostly because of that.”

She wasn’t wrong, though “want” might have been a weak term - Therese was _dying_ to - to clear up the situation and to go out with Carol. Before she had time to think, her phone was ringing and her friends were all giggling around her, some without even realizing what was happening. On the third ring she asked, “what if she doesn’t ans--”

_“Hello?”_ It was the kind of hello that a person used when they knew exactly who was calling but were confused as to why. 

“Hey. Carol. Hi.” 

A fit of stifled laughter sounded out around her and she did her best to walk away. 

“Hey, Therese. Is… everything okay? How’s Austin?”

“Austin’s great. Listen, when I get back, can we get that drink you were talking about?”

There was a pause that lasted just a little too long and Therese had to make sure the call handed cut off. It hadn’t.

“Are you drunk?”

Yes, Therese was, but not that drunk. Drunk enough that she felt bold enough to call Carol, but not too drunk to regret anything the next day. 

“No.” Lies. “Yes, but that’s not - that doesn’t matter. Just… before I really did think Jacqueline would be mad but then we talked and… can you just say yes or no?” 

“Sorry. Yes, I mean, absolutely yes. Of course we can. But,” there was a condition and Therese was afraid to hear it, “you have to call me and ask me again tomorrow so I can make sure this isn’t drunk Therese making plans.”

That wouldn’t be a problem.

\--------

They went to a bar in Bushwick the following Thursday. The kind of bar that Therese didn’t even know about, because she was cool (or so she was told), but not cool enough to know about somewhat hidden, uncrowded cocktail bars that were too good to get all of their business from Instagram popularity. Carol knew about bars like that, though. She claimed it was all part of her job - event planning required a certain type of knowledge about various spots all over the city. 

They talked about that - Carol’s job and Therese’s job - and literally everything else for almost four hours, or until Carol looked at her watch and decided it was time for her to get home.

“Yvonne is my 17-year-old neighbor who is always so willing to babysit, but is pretty strict about midnight being closing time on a school night. She _will_ call if I’m even a minute later.”

Once they stepped outside, Carol stood close and watched as Therese began putting in her location to get an Uber. “Therese, that’s _not_ where we are. Do you want to have to walk a block? Here, just let me - ”

Carol grabbed her phone away but instead of helping Therese, she put it away in her jacket pocket and kissed her. And kissed her again and again and again until they were just making out on the sidewalk. When they actually both ordered their Ubers - fifteen minutes later - Therese told Carol to get a sitter that wouldn’t mind staying well past midnight the next time. 

“Next time?”

“Well, yeah, I just figured…”

“No, of course.” Carol stepped into the waiting car, kissing Therese again, and said, “I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll figure that out. Next time.” She pointed at her with pretend sternness and added, “and you have to say ‘yes’ this time. I can’t cry in front of my kid again.” 

Next time wound up being over a week later. Carol apologized for not being more available, but she already felt like a horrible mother for leaving Rindy - her daughter - in the care of everybody but her when she left school and then with sitters far too many Saturdays of the year. Because, weddings. So she tried to space out the nights she was gone as much as possible. 

Next time was over a week later, but it was worth the wait. Therese would’ve waited forever if she’d had to. Better yet, their second date wasn’t just drinks, it was dinner, and Therese managed to get Carol to let her pick the place _and_ pay. Often Therese was lonely when her roommate was out-of-town for work for long stretches, but after learning Rindy’s sitter was committed to staying past midnight, she couldn’t have been more grateful. 

Everything in Therese’s bedroom was damp - their hair, the sheets, their discarded clothing, even the air was heavy. Therese was surprised by how easily she’d made Carol come, like Carol had wanted her just as much as she had Carol, and when she tried to get her fingers back, Carol’s hand came down to catch her wrist. “Hang on.” 

She was still trying to catch her breath, so Therese stayed still and just gazed down at her, admiring her while she had the chance. Palm covering her forehead, makeup smudged, and suddenly dry lips, blinking eyes looking back up at her, she was still more beautiful than anyone Therese could imagine. 

She couldn’t stay, because of Rindy. And she apologized over and over and Therese had to shush her to get her to stop, because the apologies were unnecessary. She wondered who had made Carol believe they were. 

“I had a rotating cast of absentee parents growing up. Though I think you can let yourself off the hook every once in a while, I love how devoted you are to your daughter.”

\--------

Most of their dates were like that - far between and ending with Carol leaving Therese’s house (never Carol’s, because Carol didn’t let Rindy meet just anybody) late late at night. So Therese did her best to supplement them with phone calls. The first time she’d called, just to talk, Carol answered in her work-voice, like Therese needed something.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing, I was just calling to see how your day was.”

“Oh.” The surprise in Carol’s tone broke Therese’s heart. “It was fine.”

“Well, what did you do?”

Carol’s inability to explain her day made it clear that she wasn’t often asked to. But she got there eventually, with Therese pushing to get her to detail the most seemingly mundane occurrences. There were clearly things that worried her, stressed her out, that she’d never spoken out loud, because Carol took care of Rindy and Jacqueline and eleven other couples whose weddings she was planning, but who took care of Carol? 

Therese wanted to, if she’d let her. 

\--------

The rehearsal came and went and then there was the dinner, and Carol was ever-present but floating around during all of it, harassing the valet and giving instructions to servers. Therese found her explaining to the bartender that he shouldn’t let Jacqueline drink anything with added sugar because she would _not_ have a hungover bride the next day.

“Hey,” Therese brushed her arm to get her attention. 

Carol immediately softened. 

“Hi. I feel like I haven’t talked to you all night.”

They hadn’t talked, really. Unless Carol’s ordering, “no, Therese, stand there,” “Therese, Phil, you’re walking too fast, this isn’t a race, I’m going to put weights in your shoes if you don’t get it together,” could be counted. 

“Do you think you can stay at my place tomorrow night? Like, all night? Sleep in my bed and wake up there, too?”

Carol looked reluctant, but seemed to be considering the idea. Therese knew it was all about Rindy not wanting her to feel like Carol wasn’t around, and she’d understand if Carol wouldn’t want to, but they’d been seeing each other for nearly two months. Plus, Carol already had her mom staying to watch Rindy, and her mom was staying the night regardless. 

“Okay.”

\--------

If Carol hadn’t proved herself over the past nine-months as being worth all fourteen-thousand dollars she charged, the wedding alone would do that for her. The venue, beautiful in its own right, looked otherworldly, like Carol had performed actual magic. Therese thought that Jacqueline was probably crying less-so because of how happy she was to be marrying Dannie, but more because every little thing looked _perfect._

Carol had kept Jacqueline unreasonably calm all day, sewing a button back onto her dress within seconds of it coming apart, personally keeping ahold of her weed pen so Jacqueline could easily access it whenever necessary (which was a lot), even convincing Jacqueline’s dad to _not_ include that part of his speech where he talked about how much he had loved her high school boyfriend, Kyle, who was in attendance.

By the end of the night, Therese was fairly drunk and glad Carol had suggested that she bring not only a change of shoes, but a change of clothes, because it was November and over a hundred people were attempting to get transportation all at once. They had to be the last ones to leave, though, and Carol told Therese she could go on, that she’d meet her later, but Therese didn’t want that. She managed to steal a bottle of champagne and slide it into her bag, waiting as Carol walked around the venue, talking to the staff. Abby and her other employee, Tessie, would be back in the morning to help with clean up. 

As they left, Therese asked, “not you?”

“No, just Abby and Tessie. Rindy has a soccer game tomorrow at 1pm, so…” Carol’s cheeks turned a little red and she looked away, almost shyly. 

As their cab pulled away from the building, Therese felt a tinge of nostalgia, because the wedding was over, and the wedding was how she’d met Carol, and to some extent, why she’d gotten to see Carol more often than just once or twice a week. It was over and Therese was worried things might change, but then Carol pulled her from her thoughts, tapping on her thigh to get her attention. 

“Would you want to come? To Rindy’s soccer game, I mean.”

Yes, things _would_ change, and that might’ve been the best part.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short note: this chapter is a non-linear addition to the story. It'll click when you start reading, just keep it in mind. 
> 
> Longer note, if you so choose: Well, well, well...what a strange time, guys, but I'm back with this less-than-uplifting read (that'll change, of course). In the past few months I've been spending most of my time studying for a pretty important test, passing that test, and then I went to New York for a few days. I was supposed to return to work (and writing) as usual but, of course, things changed. Now, as much as I'd LOVE to use my time at home to do all of this writing, I'm unemployed for an unknown amount of time, and I'm starting to become less optimistic about when I’ll return. I'm planning to use much of my time to try and figure out ways to supplement my finances, but I promise to try and get a little writing in every now and then.
> 
> I hope all of you are safe and well. Enjoy this! (Lol I guess...)

_Cooing._ Rindy cooed when she slept and sometimes tapped her lips together, making a little chewing sound, and if it hadn’t been for that, Carol might’ve forgotten Rindy was asleep behind her. 

On a normal night, Carol would’ve been more insistent about Rindy sleeping in her own bed. She didn’t mind her company on occasion, especially if Rindy had fallen asleep on her own, accidentally, but it wasn’t something Carol wanted to make a habit. The night before, however, it hadn’t been Rindy’s idea. There was no whining or begging to sleep in her mother’s room. Carol just hadn’t any intention of kicking her out once she’d gotten there.

It had begun when she’d startled Rindy. Not purposefully, but Carol had been sitting on the edge of her bed, hunched over, hand covering her eyes as she had tried to stifle one and then two and then three choked sobs, but her attempt to regulate her volume had become moot when Rindy had appeared suddenly in the doorframe. An inquisitive look drained from her face as she noticed her mother crying. Rindy took a step back and her hands fidgeted in front of her, fingers flaying and flexing, eyes wide and scared like she’d witnessed something _bad._

It was the first time Rindy had caught Carol crying. Or, at least, the first time Carol could remember. Carol didn’t often cry, and when she did, she had always made sure to keep it to herself. But when Rindy had so obviously noticed Carol crying, Carol struggled for a moment. There was a bout of turmoil as she struggled with her own feelings and also with “parenting.” On the one hand, she wanted to assure Rindy that crying was okay - that it wasn’t something she needed to suppress or be ashamed - but Carol also wanted Rindy to understand that (save for a wounded ego and a metaphorical broken heart), she was just fine - Rindy’s mother was not in trouble or sick or dying.

“Hey sweetie,” Carol breathed in sharply and shook her head. “I’m okay, I’m sorry. Come _here._ I’m okay.”

Still wary, Rindy stayed unmoving.

“Honey, it’s fine. You can come here.” 

Rindy took a few timid steps forward, keeping her gaze fixed to the floor, and asked what was wrong. She wanted to know why Carol was crying. 

“Nothing to worry about, sweetie. I just…” Carol drifted, tried to find the right thing to say until she settled on, “I just get lonely sometimes.”

Like Carol, Rindy was combative. Protective, probably, and questioned how her mother could be lonely if she had her. 

“Sometimes I need someone who’s more like me, honey. Kind of like your grandma and grandpa. Or even like Abby and Victoria.” Unsure if Rindy fully understood, Carol tried again. “You’d be sad, too, if you didn’t have friends your age like Jesse or Bryce.”

“But I don’t need them, I just need you,” Rindy answered. And Carol had almost started sobbing again.

Quickly silencing her grating alarm, Carol rolled to her side and poked through her phone to call Abby. She wasn’t looking forward to Abby’s shakedown, but she still couldn’t avoid telling her she wouldn’t be coming into their office at all that day. 

If Carol was lucky, Abby would already be on the train and unable to answer.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Carol was not lucky.

“Hey…I’m staying home today, I just - ” Carol started and then thought she could always blame “Rindy...wants to spend time with me. I’m just taking a day. Or someth— I’ll be in tomorrow.”

“Okay…” Abby wasn’t buying it, Carol could tell. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yes. I’m fine. I’m just,” the dirt beneath Carol’s fingernails kept her occupied for a handful of seconds until she remembered to continue, “I need a day. I’ll still answer emails, but—”

“No, don’t worry. Only do as much as you feel like. Hun, we’ve got this. Take the day.”

Abby just hung up. No goodbye, no warning, just an ended call. After telling Rindy’s sitter she could take the day off, Carol slept for another three hours.

———

Just before 10am, Rindy woke her up. She wasn’t subtle (not that five-year-olds were expected to be). She poked her fingers into Carol’s cheeks until she stirred, and then pushed her eyelids open to ensure she was _super_ awake. 

“Mom!” A yell from a small child was nothing short of a shriek “You’re late for work!”

“Sweetie, I’m taking the day off. Let’s sleep.”

Going back to sleep was an ambitious suggestion, Carol knew, but she tried and faced rejection in the form of Rindy leaving her bedroom and making noise in the kitchen. An open cabinet would shake Carol awake pretty swiftly. 

\--------

(“So Therese, she’s…not straight, right?”

Jacqueline laughed, snorted even, as she continued sifting through her invite confirmations. “Therese is, like, just Therese. I don’t even know. She’s _def_ not straight, though. She’s like an ‘I’m open to anything,’ ‘I just like the person.’ Whatever, she’s so weird. I love her.”

Jacqueline wasn’t _getting_ it, so Carol asked without hesitation, “she’s single though?” Carol knew Therese was. They’d touched upon the topic a handful of times when forcefully brought together by the demands of Jacqueline. They’d discussed Carol’s disappointment in the seriousness of any woman she’d found intriguing or Therese’s reluctance to explore long-term interest with nearly everyone she’d met.

Carol’s follow-up piqued Jacqueline’s interest. Initially, she’d started with a banal, “yeah, she never likes—” and then stopped. One corner of her mouth perked upward and she craned her eyes toward Carol, smile growing. “Therese is definitely single and _please, god,_ tell me you’re interested because I love it so much. I’d literally give you my wedding. Ohmigod, _Carol.”_

Embarrassing as it was, Jacqueline was still so sweet and so correct. “I…” Carol tried hard to keep herself from blushing, “I’m thinking about it. I don’t know yet.” A squeal and excited foot stomp from Jacqueline cut Carol off momentarily. “Don’t say anything to her, please.”)

It had taken nearly four weeks for Carol to decide that Therese was, without a doubt, interested. She’d long suspected, but wanted to make sure she wasn’t mistaking Therese’s niceness for interest - that Carol’s own, slightly-inflated ego wasn’t filling in the blanks for her. So in the three and a half weeks after talking to Jacqueline, the two times she saw Therese, she flirted and talked and winked and determined they were absolutely on the same page. 

That was part of the reason Therese’s rejection the night before had been such a devastating blow. Carol had _not_ been expecting it, and she wasn’t extremely used to being turned-down. 

\--------

It took a few trains and transfers but Carol and Rindy finally made it to the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens. It was a surprising suggestion from a five-year-old, Carol thought, though not unwelcome, even if it was out of the way. Rindy had suddenly become interested in flowers and plants, especially ones that were brightly colored, and Carol admired the apple that hadn’t fallen far at all. 

July was well past the renowned cherry-blossom months but it made way for a more unique spread of blooms. Rindy had good taste, Carol decided, as she watched her jump ahead and ogle the sunflowers and multicolored lilies and late-season roses. Snapping at her to keep her hands to herself every so often was a small price to pay.

Even though Rosalind worked at the Gardens, Carol had never encountered her there outside of very scheduled, very work-related meetings. Not that she was a frequent visitor in her free time, but Carol was still shocked by Rosalind’s appearance. Unlike Carol, she was a hugger, and she definitely wanted to talk. 

Namely, about Carol. Why was she there? Was she there for work? Why wasn’t she working that day? 

“I’m spending the day with Rindy, actually. My daughter.”

“No way. Finally. Where is she?”

Scanning her surroundings, Carol found an odd smile spreading across her face when she saw Rindy turning around in circles, over and over again, on the park’s lawn. 

With a nod, Carol didn’t need to say. _Right there._

Rosalind clutched her chest as she watched Rindy collapse onto the ground, prostrate on the grass. “Is she okay?”

“She’s completely fine. She’s strange. And bored. Rindy?” Carol called, beckoning proof in the form of a raised head and a begrudged, _“what?”_

Rindy was alive and well, and with a sigh of relief, Rosalind turned back to Carol and praised her for how cute Rindy was, how well-dressed she looked in her pink striped shorts and Beyonce shirt that Abby had bought for her. “That blonde hair and blue eye gene sure is strong with you, huh?”

“Her dad has blue eyes and blonde hair, too.” Carol paused, because did he? “From what I can remember, at least.”

They caught up more, about a meeting they had scheduled the next month with a couple that was getting married there the following spring. 

Suddenly, Rosalind grabbed Carol’s wrist, seemingly remembering something, and there was a little sparkle behind her eyes that Carol recognized, and she didn’t think she liked it. “I almost forgot, you don’t know Olivia Murphy, do you? She does booking for - ”

“Never heard that name in my life.”

_Please be about business. Please be about business. Please be about business._

“I didn’t think so. Okay, well, she’s great. Super sweet, drop dead gorgeous,” definitely not about business, “_single._ You should change that.”

At least Rosalind was funny about her attempted set-ups. It wasn’t the first time throughout the years that she’d stumbled upon another woman interested in women who happened to be single and tried to throw them Carol’s way. 

“Thank you, Ros, for always looking out for me, however, I couldn’t be less interested in dating right now, honestly.”

That was a complete lie. Carol was extremely interested in dating, but her interest didn’t expand beyond Therese. It had only been eighteen hours since she’d called Therese and she was planning to let herself wallow for a while longer. And while Rosalind’s friend might’ve been gorgeous, she couldn’t imagine not being able to help comparing her to Therese, a standard to which nobody could measure up.

The only time Carol would find Rindy’s whining angelic was when it came just in time to get her out of a conversation she didn’t feel like continuing. Rindy was _bored_ \- her attention span naturally short - and was _“going to die.”_ Rosalind rolled her eyes at Carol and reminded her that if she “changed her mind,” to give her a call. 

\----------

Carol had a hard time spending the _entire_ day not working. She couldn’t help herself. She dragged poor Rindy in and out of a tailor where she inquired about the well-being of one of her client’s dresses, two different stationary stores, and a florist, until finally the pouting became too difficult to ignore and Carol figured she’d taken up enough of their day with work-related matters. 

As promised, she took Rindy to a playground in Park Slope. The one she always requested to go to had a bizarre, creepy old house and a million monkey bars. It was fascinating how strong children were, watching Rindy propel herself with ease across various rings and climbers and even though Carol was sure there’d been a time in her life when she could’ve done the same, she had trouble remembering any one specific moment.

Often she didn’t feel completely like an adult, despite running a business, despite being forty, despite having a child of her own to care for. But she was, of course, and whenever feelings of incompetence crept up, Abby could always be counted on to remind Carol (in the most well-intentioned of ways) that Carol wasn’t overwhelmed because she didn’t know what she was doing or for reasons of inadequacy - it was because Carol did the work of two on her own. 

Because she had no one. 

Because she was alone. 

Carol’s eyes scanned the playground in search of Rindy - a habit she did every few minutes - and once she spotted her, she returned to her phone. She’d been waiting on a response from her mother after texting her.

_Do you think it’s bad that I let Rindy have candy when she asks for it?_

It wasn’t like she was constantly asking for it, but when she did, Carol just shrugged and said, “sure,” and gave her some. 

She stared in frustration at her phone as the grey “...” bubble appeared and disappeared and reappeared again while her mother formed a response.

_I don’t think it matters. Carol, you aren’t being graded on parenting. Stop getting worked up over what’s bad or good. I let you do whatever you wanted and you were hard enough on yourself so I didn’t have to be._

Parenting advice only seemed abundant coming from strangers when she didn’t ask, never the people she cared about when she felt like she needed it. Carol looked around at the other parents sitting and watching their own children (avoiding prolonged eye-contact, of course, lest she give the impression of wanting to chat - potentially a dreadful accident). She _was_ jealous of the couples, many who’d obviously just gotten back from work and had taken their children to the park to try and run out their energy before it started raining as predicted. 

Anger began to set in - a welcome break from the melancholia she’d spent the day with - and she decided to sit with that instead. She let herself be annoyed with Therese instead of disappointed, annoyed with feeling led on and further frustrated by Therese’s weak excuse to turn her down. She’d have preferred honesty. Maybe. Theoretically. Carol liked to imagine she was a big enough person to handle an honest rejection. 

The sudden splash of wetness on her cheek definitely wasn’t a tear, which must’ve meant - “fuck. Rindy!”

But Rindy was already running up to her, announcing that it was raining and they needed to go home. Maybe Carol was an okay parent on her own, after all. Except she’d forgotten an umbrella, a fact Rindy let her know several times as they hustled themselves out of the park and toward the train. 

In the four blocks it took to walk to the 4th Ave station, Carol felt her shoes beginning to fill with water and was thankful that Rindy insisted on wearing rain boots on nearly every occasion. Rindy’s hair was soaked and Carol figured hers must’ve been too. Before they got on the crowded train, Carol looked at Rindy and asked, “does my makeup look crazy?”

“Go like this,” Rindy rubbed underneath the corner of her left eye and Carol mirrored her. “You got it.”

A teenager stood up to let Rindy sit. By the time they needed to transfer, Rindy was lulling in and out of sleep. Moving from one train to another, Carol picked Rindy up and slung her over her hip. She never understood why she wasn’t completely fucking ripped after years of hauling Rindy all around the city. 

Hauling Rindy on and off the subway, to doctors appointments, to work with her - when sitters fell through, to various preschools, where she’d practically needed to sell her soul for a spot, to soccer practice and playdates and a million clothing stores - constantly - because Rindy seemed to grow every time Carol looked away. For five years, Carol had done everything completely on her own and maybe it was better that way, she clearly didn’t _need_ anyone, so why bother?

On the second train, Carol sat with Rindy in her lap and let her keep sleeping. There was a woman who couldn’t have been much older than Carol leaning against one of the poles and staring. Carol forced a smile and hoped that would be enough. 

“She’s adorable.”

Well, she wasn’t wrong. Rindy was a particularly cute sleeper. “Thank you. I’m enjoying the silence.”

“They grow up so fast, you know,” that was something Carol heard _a lot_ from random people. Over and over and over again, as if she hadn’t experienced the feeling herself since the day Rindy was born. “My daughter is thirteen now. If my husband or I so much as acknowledge her in public, she’ll just about die.”

“Not there yet, fortunately.”

“No, you’ve got a little more time.”

Thankfully, the conversation ended as they reached the woman’s stop and Carol spent the remainder of the ride undisturbed. Rindy kept sleeping through being carried back to the apartment and up the stairs and Carol wondered if she’d regret the nap later, when Rindy would inevitably be wide awake at midnight. Still, she decided to let her sleep until she finished making dinner. 

After hanging up their wet coats, maneuvering Rindy’s limbs into dry clothes, and then changing her own clothes, Carol made her way into the kitchen. She didn’t feel like making dinner but she had to. It was the silence that bothered her. Not because Rindy was asleep but because she was alone. She considered calling Abby but then remembered she had plans that night with her girlfriend, she’d already talked to her parents enough for one day, and Tessie had her own family that kept her occupied. 

No, Carol didn’t _need_ anybody. She had always fared just fine on her own, with Rindy, and she’d do just fine without Rindy as she distanced herself in the years ahead. But knowing she didn’t need anybody didn’t make Carol want somebody any less.


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn’t often that Carol and Abby fought. Bickered as a byproduct of being around one another for far too much time? Constantly. Started catty arguments over nothing in particular, just for sport? Sure. But real fighting was rare. If she thought hard, Carol could probably count how many times it had happened in twenty years. That’s what made it so upsetting when they did. 

When Carol had asked Abby if she could _maybe_ babysit the following Friday, “not tomorrow, but a week from it,” they were packing up to leave their office, and she thought she’d asked casually enough to not warrant asking specifics. But Abby looked excited, and excitement meant questions, which meant disappointing answers from Carol. 

“Potentially,” Abby said, and Carol sighed knowing it was conditional. “Are you going on a date?”

“Well,” Carol slid her laptop inside her bag and took a second to adjust it and zip the pocket closed before continuing. “Not, like, an actual date. No…” 

Carol could feel Abby’s stare as they closed the door to the office and headed for the elevator, her eyes still searching for answers after they pressed the button to go down and waited on the landing.

“Can you or no? It’s fine if you can’t, I just need -- ”

“And with whom exactly is this not-date?”

The doors opened and closed and the distance between the fifth floor and the lobby suddenly felt miles long. Carol knew Abby wouldn’t be happy and had likely already guessed the correct answer to her own question, based on Carol’s reluctance to divulge additional information from the beginning. 

“I don’t want to tell you.”

“If you don’t tell me then I’m not babysitting.”

She probably wouldn’t babysit anyway, but Carol would rather at least attempt to get Abby to agree to save herself a hundred dollars. They passed the third floor and then the second. 

“It’d be with Izzy…”

“Nope.”

The moment they hit the lobby, Carol brushed ahead of Abby, bumping into a man waiting to take the elevator up in the process. She shouldn’t have asked anyway, anticipating the outcome and - worse - the palpable disapproval from her best friend. 

“Carol, wait!” 

Both the height of her heels and the weight of her shoulder bag kept Carol from walking as fast as she’d tried, allowing Abby to catch up swiftly. Carol wouldn’t look at her though, as much as Abby tilted her head and tried to force Carol’s gaze her way. 

“Hun, I’m not trying to be an asshole. I’m just not going to be an enabler.”

“An enabler? Really? That’s a little dramatic, Abby. I’m not asking you to babysit so I can go spend the night in a trap house.”

“You know, maybe I’d rather you spend the night in a trap house. At least then you’d be doing something new instead of doing the same person you fall back on when you’re lazy and feeling bad about yourself.”

Hearing Abby say it stung, and although it was over-the-top, Carol knew she meant the sentiment behind it. It was true that Carol periodically called upon her ex whenever she was feeling particularly in need of attention, which was never a good solution, because even if it was nice having dinner with another person, Izzy was unquestionably selfish and rarely indulged in a conversation that didn’t face directly inward. And the sex was hardly good enough to justify the icky feeling with which Carol left at the end of the night. 

Regardless of the accuracy in Abby’s words, Carol decided she no longer wanted to take the train with her, so she stopped just short of the stairs leading underground, drifting slightly to the edge of the building next to them in an attempt to get out of the way of other commuters. But of course, Abby stopped, too. Carol folded her arms into her chest and braced herself to listen. 

“I’m sorry. That was way out of line. I just... I want you to meet other people. Stop wasting your time with Izzy and find someone you actually really like. Just _try_ \- ”

“I did!” Still tense, Carol spat the words with more force than she intended, causing Abby to startle a bit before meeting her with a look of confusion. “I did _try,_ Abby. I did. I asked Jacqueline’s friend, Therese, if she wanted to get a drink with me or something. She said ‘no’ and I still feel shitty about it and you aren’t making me feel much better.”

And neither was rehashing it on the street. While Abby started apologizing, Carol only halfway listened. Her phone had vibrated in her bag and she rummaged through the pocket to find it. It turned out Abby wouldn’t have to worry about sacrificing her moral high ground to help Carol get laid. Izzy was going out of town for work, thus unavailable to even serve as Carol’s fallback. 

\-------------

If Abby hadn’t been so mean, she wouldn’t have been hanging out with Carol so much to make up for it, and she wouldn’t have been there when Carol got off of an unexpected (though more than welcome) phone call a couple Saturday nights after their fight, looking like a smug fuck.

“So...what was _that_ all about?”

“Um,” Carol stared back down at her phone, grinning, barely processing Abby’s question. “That was Therese.”

Not the answer Abby was looking for, considering she had been the one to catch Carol’s phone ringing and announced who was calling as Carol put away their leftover Chinese food. She wanted to know _why_ Therese had called. 

“She…asked if I’d want to get a drink next week.”

Triumphant. That was what best described Abby’s expression. Like she’d known all along that things would play out this way. Her arms folded as she grinned, eyebrows craning upward. “So?”

“So what?”

“Happy now?”

Of course Carol was happy. Far beyond happy. She was a little worried - Therese might’ve been on a drunken high that made hanging out with Carol sound more enticing than it did while sober. But they’d figure that out when (_if!_) Therese called her back in the morning. 

“I’m nervous. Why am I nervous? I’m never nervous.”

Abby sat down next to Carol on the sofa and squeezed her knee. “Because you know her. And you know you already like her.”

Though she had a point, it didn’t quite convince Carol. “I guess.”

“Worst case? You meet up and have a good time, but decide you’re better off as friends. Best case? You fall in love, you’re together forever, Rindy gets to keep both of your ashes on her mantel when she’s old.”

Letting her head sink down onto Abby’s shoulder, Carol contemplated. She wasn’t one to admit it - not often - but she wanted someone. “I’d like to select Option B, please.”

Abby laughed. “Well, unfortunately you can’t just select it. Option B takes a lot of work.”

There was enough work in Carol’s life already, but she figured she’d try.

—————

The next morning, Therese called back. Rather early, too. Carol was only awake because Rindy demanded breakfast and she was gazing into her coffee, struggling to keep her eyes open, when her phone began blaring and shaking against the kitchen table. How Therese was awake, Carol hadn’t a clue.

Not even letting it ring once, Carol answered. “Well, good morning.”

“Hi, again.” Therese’s voice was raspy from sleep and Carol’s chest fluttered as she listened. “You know, I’m just realizing that I might be very rudely waking you up. Sorry if that’s the case.”

Carol was smiling, too, which caught Rindy’s eye and she stopped eating her scrambled eggs and stared, wanting to know more. Carol tapped her plate and mouthed, _“eat,”_ as she stood up from the table to seek out a sliver of privacy, staving off an inquisition led by her own precocious creation. 

“That is not the case. I’ve unfortunately been awake for some time now. Why _you_ are, however...”

“Not by choice, I’m just wildly hungover and my body decided that that wasn’t punishment enough, I guess. Actually, hang on.”

There were muffled sounds of shifting and shuffling and then footsteps and a door, open and shut. 

Flopping onto her bed, Carol stared up at the ceiling fan, and waited more patiently than she ever had for anything, simply content Therese had called her back.

“Sorry, I was moving outside. Everyone is asleep everywhere. Anyway,” Therese paused and Carol almost interrupted, fearing she’d be on the receiving end of her changing her mind, but then, “you requested I call you back in the morning and it’s now the morning. Does that mean we’re allowed to get drinks this week or do you require additional communication? A signed permission slip, perhaps?”

Carol laughed and hid her reddening face out of habit. After assuring Therese that she wouldn’t make her ask again, they went back and forth to try and pin down a day and time. If Carol could’ve, she would’ve asked Therese to meet her the minute she returned home from Austin, but they settled on Thursday, and Carol figured she could wait until then. Before their discussion ended, the familiar clang of silverware colliding with linoleum coming from down the hall reminded Carol to issue a potentially game-changing caveat. Her heart pounded. 

“Hey, you know I have a kid, right?”

\------------ 

Therese had known - something about Abby mentioning it. And Carol had left it at that. She’d let motherhood-attributed dating restrictions screw things up naturally. They always did, eventually, so she kept any Rindy related talk to a minimum on first dates. She’d never dated another parent. Not intentionally, but Carol imagined it would make coordination even trickier. Plus, she didn’t have much interest in other peoples’ kids, just her own. She always assumed that nobody else was dying to hear about Rindy, either, much to their enormous loss. 

On very, _very_ rare occasions, Carol didn’t mind being proven wrong.

Once they’d ordered their second round of drinks, Therese unceremoniously changed the subject as the bartender left their table.

“What’s your daughter’s name?”

“Rindy.” 

Usually, it ended there. Kid’s name, age, ‘oh, that’s sweet,’ the end. Carol expected similar from Therese - less, even, given her age. But Therese surprised her. She dug deep, seemingly wanting to know everything about Rindy. What was she like? What _did_ she like? Soccer, lately, but Carol didn’t have big plans for that. Legos always (sadly enough for Carol’s feet), dogs and cats, buildings and books about them, post-it notes, for whatever reason… 

“Can I see a picture of her?” 

Thanks to the development of the smartphone perfectly preceding the development of her daughter, Carol had thousands. Literally. She pulled one up on her phone of Rindy smiling in her soccer uniform at Grover Cleveland Park. Or kind of smiling - she was just sort of gritting her teeth together and stretching her mouth as wide as possible, but she was five and to her, that was a smile. “That’s her.”

When Carol was about to grab her phone back, Therese batted her hand away. “Oh my god, _Carol._” She grinned and kept scrolling. “She is so fucking cute.” Through too many pictures and videos, Therese cooed and commented and made Carol feel dizzy with her unabashed interest in her daughter. 

\------------

“I know the _best_ bar. It’s about a fifteen minute walk from here, but it’s worth it.”

“Oh yeah? What’s it called?” 

Carol was intrigued, but also a little caught off guard. She hadn’t expected to stay out. Therese had insisted on figuring out plans for their second date (“but it’s going to be dinner, just so we’re clear”) and had floored Carol when, after meeting at Lorimer Street station, she ushered them a few blocks up Union and directly into Lilia. Even Carol, a self-proclaimed Queen of Last-Minute Reservations, couldn’t have managed a table there with just a week’s notice. But Dannie’s sister was the reservationist, Therese revealed, and Carol made a mental note for the future. They stayed at the restaurant far longer than their minimal food consumption warranted (Carol blamed nerves), though they made up for it in drinks. When the bill came, Therese fished out her card and handed it to the server without giving Carol a chance.

“Why’d you do that? Let’s just split it.”

“We are, kind of.”

Carol remained confused. “Should I pay for wherever we go after this?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Therese grinned, turning a little shy before she explained. “You pay for a babysitter, I pay the bill. Fifty-fifty.”

Carol sighed, because Therese was _so sweet_ and got a little lost in her thoughts as Therese signed the receipt and they headed out. It was partly why she was surprised to hear talks of going somewhere else afterward, “the best bar,” having had something much different in mind.

Therese continued, “well, it’s small, but great. It’s called, um, my apartment.”

Oh. That felt more like what Carol had planned for. 

Her apartment _was_ small - not that Carol’s was remotely large - but it reminded Carol a lot of where she’d lived before Rindy. Tidier, less cluttered, a glass coffee table similar to the one that no less than four people begged Carol to swap out when Rindy started to crawl. 

“You can look around all you’d like, my roommate is out of town.”

Already a step ahead, Carol was peering into both slightly-ajar bedroom doors. One bedroom contained furniture that suited the main room: everything angular, sharp lined, and shades of grey, black, and white. It was nice - more than nice - and extremely clean. The second room was clean, too, but lived in. And there were colors. But the main draw was a desk covered in every piece of camera equipment imaginable. The second room was absolutely Therese’s. 

“Not a tough guess, I’m sure.”

Therese had quietly slipped behind Carol, offering her a drink of some sort.

“What is this?”

“So, I’ve noticed you like gin…”

“I do.” Carol smiled and rolled her eyes. She’d ordered drinks with it on both of their dates. 

“And do you like tonic?”

“Yes.”

“Well, have I got the drink for _you._ And if you’d like, you can enjoy it on this beautiful yet highly uncomfortable couch.”

Moving to sit was a cute charade, but Carol finished her drink in _maybe_ four sips, and once Therese noticed, she knocked back her own. She looked ready to knock Carol onto her back, too, but paused, moved so close and whispered, “I’m afraid if I push you down onto this couch, you’ll get a concussion. Can we just move into - ”

“Yes please.”

\-------------

Often dating followed a pattern for Carol. Probably her own fault, not properly vetting before jumping into anything. She’d been on plenty of fantastic first dates, occasionally great second dates, but by the time the third or fourth rolled around, Carol’s lack of open availability was tiresome enough to put things to an end. _“I really like you, but our lives are just too different.”_ And despite an abundance of hope, she really hadn’t expected much different from Therese. 

Their second and third and fourth dates came with near week-long gaps between each, and each time Carol was just waiting for Therese to grow bored of the inflexibility, annoyed with the “no not Thursday, not Friday, maybe Saturday?” But it never came.

The Monday after date number four, Carol walked into her office - always a little late ever since school had started - to find Abby and Tessie beaming at her. She narrowed her eyes and frowned in return, not liking being the odd one out. 

“What?”

“Carol, what did you _do?”_

Before becoming more annoyed about being left in the dark, Carol saw the stunning bouquet of flowers sitting on her desk. It was no minimalist bouquet either, but instead packed with ranunculus and yet-to-bloom dahlias, anemones and Italian eucalyptus, and it went on and on and on. She stood, inspecting each bloom, trying to recall the last time she’d received such an elaborate flower arrangement. Or the last time she’d received flowers at all that didn’t come from Abby or her parents. 

The note left next to the vase on the desk was simple: _call me when you have time._ That was it. Not rushed, not “call me when you get this,” just when Carol had the time (still, she was going to call right away). Therese didn’t even include her name. 

After half a ring and an all-too casual greeting, Therese broke her act after Carol said, “what do you mean _‘what’s up?_’” 

“So you like them?”

_Like_ was one way of putting it. “Therese, this is…” Carol trailed off, lacking words. 

On the other end, she heard an audible wince. “Too much?”

“No!” Flowers like that coming from anybody else, Carol would probably have answered differently. But that was the thing with Therese - she felt different. “Not at all. These are great. You are great.”

They came with slightly ulterior motives, Therese admitted. The first was to make Carol call her. Carol laughed, because that was quite an expensive plan of action. The second was to give a little ammunition to Therese’s proposition when Carol called her.

“Oh? And what is this proposition?”

“I know we don’t have plans until Saturday, but…” Therese started, and Carol’s heart fell a little, afraid she was about to let Therese down with truly no free nights until then. “We don’t have to always go out at night, you know? Obviously, it has its very pleasurable advantages, but I’m just throwing out the idea of maybe us getting lunch this week? If you can.”

Where this extremely understanding and considerate person had come from, Carol had no clue, but she was grateful for every part of it. “I would absolutely love that.”

“Oh, okay!” Therese sounded downright giddy, as if relieved that Carol was on-board with her idea. Her excitement carried over as they went over their schedules and carved out a couple hours the following Wednesday. Carol added that she was sorry for not having more time, for not being able to spend hours on end together. Therese just said, “I’m just happy to spend time with you,” and Carol could only smile stupidly before hanging up.

\-------------

Therese started calling, too. And, like how it always was with Therese, Carol was caught off-guard. She was used to getting calls from other adults almost strictly to discuss work, not just to talk. Seldom was she asked how her day was, what she’d done, how she felt, what she was doing. Carol felt out of practice, unable to come up with answers to Therese’s questions. But Therese just pressed on, eventually finding ways to coax a little more from Carol.

Once the calls grew more frequent, long ones, at least on an every-other-day basis, Rindy started to catch on, curious about who was making her mother laugh as she packed her lunch for the next day or talk in hushed, serious tones on the couch after Rindy had gone to bed. 

“Is that the friend you go and see when Yvonne or Abby comes over?”

Carol rolled her eyes - Rindy had asked while she was literally on the phone. She asked Therese to hang on and turned to Rindy. “Yes. It is. Why?”

“Nothing.” Rindy’s mischievous little smile gave away that it wasn’t ‘nothing,’ but Carol didn’t pry, and went into her bedroom to continue her conversation.

“Sorry, that was Rindy being nosy. I’m now alone. Anyway, where were we?”

“Doesn’t matter. You know, speaking of, I’ve been wanting to ask you,” Therese started and then paused, seeming to consider if she wanted to proceed or not. Carol kept silent, waiting her out, too curious to allow her to change her mind. “This is probably not the appropriate way to word this - and feel free to, like, not answer if you aren’t comfortable. But, it’s about Rindy…”

Ah. Carol could sense where she was headed. She decided to put Therese out of her rambling misery. “Her dad?”

“Yeah.” Therese sounded guilty for asking. But she didn’t need to be. Carol would want to know, too, if she were in Therese’s position. 

“Well,” it was Carol’s turn to hesitate, drumming her fingers on her collarbone and collecting her thoughts, allowing Therese to prepare for a slightly long, slightly weird story. 

Though Carol had mostly always _dated_ women, there were stints of promiscuity that peppered her past. She’d had a good handful of random hookups, and sometimes a younger, usually inebriated Carol didn’t discriminate based on gender. Extremely infrequent, but it happened on occasion. Like after a wedding she’d worked about a month before her 35th birthday. She hadn’t thought too much of it when she first missed her period - she’d been stressed and she’d lost a little weight because of it. It took another almost-month, when she was typing her symptoms into Google when it clicked before even needing to complete her search. She’d called Abby and simply told her that she needed her to come with her to have an abortion. Abby agreed, of course, but when she arrived at Carol’s she came with a crazy idea.

“I’d always wanted a kid and I’d just turned 35 - not exactly getting any younger. If I had gotten an abortion I would’ve wound up spending tens of thousands of dollars trying to either adopt or get pregnant. So I was like, ‘I guess I’ll just be pregnant.’ My parents were relieved. I think Abby was, too.”

“Why relieved?”

“I was probably going a little too hard with the drinking and going out once our business started to really take off.”

Rindy became a welcome excuse to tone it down. Carol told the dad - she would’ve felt weird had she not - and luckily, he agreed to sign a few papers giving up any rights. He was much younger and just happy that Carol wasn’t looking for money or anything like that. 

“But - and this is kind of unorthodox, I know…” it was more than just ‘unorthodox.’ It was the thing that had freaked out Izzy enough to put a halt to their seven-month relationship when Carol had told her. “He sort of - well, not ‘sort of,’ he does - gives me money sometimes. Through Venmo, like that.” Carol swore she could hear the drop of Therese’s jaw through the phone and continued, quickly trying to offer more explanation. “Not often and not much, just a hundred dollars here and there. Like around Rindy’s birthday or when school is about to start.”

Carol had always thought it was a nice thing. Abby and Tessie found it funny. She knew how it sounded - it was more than unconventional - but it worked. Carol appreciated what was mostly a gesture. Understandably, though, not everyone was as open to the idea as she was. 

After enough of a pause, Therese clicked her tongue, “that’s pretty great.”

Unbelievable. “You think it’s great?”

“I mean, yeah. It’s not a situation I could ever imagine but it sounds like it works. Plus, so many people struggle with kids - those who want them and have trouble having them and, of course, those who have them even though they never should’ve…”

She was talking about her own parents, Carol knew, and it broke her heart a million times over. But regardless of Therese’s parents’ indifference towards her, she turned out to be the most caring and fascinating and dedicated person Carol had ever met. Something somewhere had gone very right. “Sorry, babe, I know I should - ”

“No, please, don’t be sorry. I admire how you are as a mother, Carol. It’s one of my favorite things about you. What does Rindy know?”

Ideally, she wouldn’t have known much at this point in her life. But that option went out the window when Carol had gotten a call from Rindy’s preschool one afternoon. She’d been in the office, _sobbing,_ for over an hour by the time Carol had come to pick her up early. _Mackenzie Ackerman_ had told Rindy that it wasn’t possible to not have a father because everybody had to have one, so where was Rindy’s? The day had to come eventually, Carol had just hoped for a couple more years. 

“I just told her he was very nice and lives in Colorado, but I wanted Rindy all to myself and that he agreed it was a good idea. She doesn’t really bring it up anymore.”

The other, less rose-tinted outcome was the next morning, when Carol showed up early to drop Rindy off and waited for Mackenzie’s mother, Melissa, to arrive. The “little chat” quickly turned into shouting which ended in Carol and Melissa sitting in child-sized chairs in front of the principal, getting scolded for their bad behavior. 

“My girlfriend, fighting other moms in the street. That’s pretty hot.”

Well, if Therese thought _that_ was hot, “want to hear about what I did after a PTA dad told me I wasn’t ‘involved enough’ in class parties?”

“Of course. But first: is his body in the Hudson or the East River?”

—————

Little Lego pieces covered the floor of Rindy’s room, some of the smaller ones blending into the rug, creating a death trap of sorts. In the middle of them all sat Rindy, concentrating as she plucked pieces from the ground and searched for the perfect spot to add them to...whatever it was she was making. 

Shuffling carefully around Rindy and her project, Carol slipped onto Rindy’s bed, curling her legs up and laying on her side. She took a moment to assess the space. It was 56 square feet. Her and Abby had measured. When she’d moved in, it was more than fine - Rindy was a year old and two feet tall. But at five, Rindy required a real bed and books and toys and an array of clothes that kept getting bigger and Carol wondered how much longer she could get away with such a small space. 

“What are you making?”

Without looking up, Rindy said, “a plane for dogs,” with enough confidence that, for a moment, Carol didn’t think anything of it. 

“Do you mind stopping for just a minute and sitting here with me? I want to talk to you real quick.”

She whined, and didn’t want to - there were probably dogs in dire need of transport - but relented and squeezed in next to Carol on her bed. 

While Carol tried to find the words to start, Rindy asked, “is it bad?”

“What? No. God, no.”

“Then what is it?”

Carol groaned. She’d somehow taught her daughter a level of patience akin to her own. But her hesitation must’ve been worrying Rindy, so she had to just spit it out.

“You know how I’ve been gone more than usual because I’ve been seeing my friend?” Carol asked, and Rindy nodded, waiting for more. 

At least Carol knew that Rindy hadn’t become resentful of her more frequent absences; the other night she’d made a big to-do of dragging out all of her markers and construction paper in anticipation of a Thursday night visit from Abby, only to be left shell-shocked that Abby wouldn’t be coming for another couple days. 

“Well, I’d really like for you to meet her sometime soon. Because we’ve been seeing each other quite a bit. And I’m hoping that we can all spend time together. I think you’ll like her.”

Carol held her breath as Rindy took her time to answer. She looked skeptical, narrowing her eyes until finally responding, “can I see a picture of her?” as if Rindy’s approval was dependent on what Therese looked like. Well, it probably was, but Carol wasn’t worried. 

“Sure. Of course. Give me a sec.”

There were plenty to choose from, and Carol selected a bunch and quickly made a separate album out of them, allowing Rindy to easily scroll through. She leaned against Carol’s arm as she took her phone in one hand and used the finger of her other to slide and view each one. Rindy stopped on one of Therese with her hair down and long and a wide smile on her face - she’d been laughing at something, nothing of enough importance for Carol to remember - while the sun hit her perfectly through the window of the coffee shop they were at. 

Rindy stared at the photo and then back up at Carol, eyes wide. “She looks like a princess.”

To be fair, Rindy thought almost anybody with nice hair and big eyes, between the ages of teenager and Carol, looked “like a princess.” Yvonne had gotten “you look like Jasmine,” within five minutes of meeting Rindy (quickly solidifying Rindy’s status as her favorite kid to babysit), Tessie apparently looked like Cinderella, the list went on. But instead of brushing it off like she normally would, Carol said, “I think so too.”

Without another word, Rindy hopped off her bed and sat back on the floor with her legos. She hadn’t given Carol explicit approval in regards to meeting Therese, but as she resumed building she mentioned something about her soccer game that Sunday. Apparently _Sarah_ always had her parents, grandparents, aunt, uncle, and cousin come to the game and _Sarah_ bragged about having more people excited to watch her play than anyone else on the team. The anecdote annoyed Carol more than anything, until she realized that it meant Rindy did want to meet Therese. Specifically, she wanted to meet her on Sunday at her soccer game. Selfish motivations, sure, but Carol was too pleased to be bothered. 

“I can ask her. She might be busy though.” Hungover. Therese would probably be too hungover to want to come. And she hadn’t asked Therese about meeting Rindy, either. Rindy stared at Carol, confused by the notion that Therese would be too busy for something of such great import. “I will ask her. We’ll see.”

\-------------

Therese said yes. 

It might not have been entirely fair, asking Therese if she wanted to attend Rindy’s soccer game at a time when Therese was decently drunk and elated to not have to part ways with Carol in the dead of night, for once. Initially, Carol had planned to ask Therese about it sometime before or after Jacqueline and Danny’s rehearsal dinner the day before the wedding, but she let herself get too nervous and then distracted by Therese’s appeal for her to spend the night after the wedding. 

Before she left her mom and Rindy earlier that day, her mom made it sound simple. 

“Just ask her if she wants to go. If she doesn’t, she has a simple ‘out’ anyway. She can say she’ll be too tired. No big deal.”

The big deal was that now, if Therese did, in fact, use that excuse, Carol would secretly question the validity of it and be apprehensive about asking her to meet Rindy again in the future. 

So naturally, Carol did it when it wasn’t quite fair. She gave Therese room to walk back on her answer the next morning, though. Waking up in Therese’s bed felt nice - better than nice - even if it was to the sounds of Therese clumsily opening her bedroom door, the metal clasps of a camera strap hanging from the handle banging against the wood. She returned with a glass of water and smiled as Carol burrowed back into her pillow. 

“Not going to lie - I’m pretty hungover.”

Carol had figured that would be the case. “I bet. You know, it’s totally okay if you’d rather stay home today. There’s lots of screaming kids - and parents - at these games.”

“No!” For someone hungover, Therese’s response was very animated. “That’s why I’m up so early. I want to go. But we need to get ready.”

There was no point in bothering to ask Therese if she was sure, she undoubtedly was. They got ready in relative silence and Carol had forgotten what it was like to get ready without stopping every couple of minutes to help button a shirt or fill a water bottle or tie a shoe. It was strange starting and finishing her makeup in one room, with one mirror - not starting in her bathroom at home, continuing using a compact on the train, and finishing up at her desk at work. It was quiet besides sounds coming from Therese and then her roommate when he woke up. It was so different. 

On the train, Therese pressed down on Carol’s knee to get her to stop shaking her leg. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be nervous - ”

“I don’t just let people meet my kid.” Carol blurted out. Therese knew, she said, but Carol had to explain. “Like, nobody that I’ve dated has. Ever. She’s a kid - she’s loud and hyper and asks a lot and wants a lot and she’s more important than anybody in the world. Once you meet her, I can’t just compartmentalize her anymore. Or you. Because she’s five and gets attached and once she meets you - ”

“Carol.” Therese interrupted, thankfully, because Carol was confident she could’ve ranted for eternity if left to her own devices. The hand on her leg squeezed, demanding more attention. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Carol chose to believe her. Therese had been patient from the beginning when she easily could have opted out. The rest of the ride she traced around the fingers of Therese’s hand while Therese laid her head on her shoulder. 

As the distance to Carol’s building got shorter, she could sense Therese growing more and more anxious. A block and a half out, her pace slowed considerably and she stopped responding to Carol’s comments. It did seem a little unfair that Carol had gotten to know the people closest to Therese before even meeting Therese. Jacqueline’s family was essentially Therese’s surrogate family, and they’d loved Carol right out the gate. Therese had the harder task, and Carol was just happy she was willing to endure. 

“Ready?” Carol asked, opening the front door to her building. Therese still had two flights of stairs to drag her feet, two flights of stairs left to change her mind. But she didn’t. She just wordlessly followed Carol up each step until they were at the door. “You’ll be fine.” 

Par for the course, they stepped inside to all kinds of sounds. Carol’s mom was in the kitchen, shouting for Rindy to come take her vitamins, there was a podcast streaming from her phone and muffled music behind Rindy’s closed bedroom door. Rindy didn’t emerge - either not hearing her name or not wishing to listen, but her mom gave up when she saw them walk inside. 

Her mom was easy. Agreeable, nice, but direct. Not a fan of small talk or ‘get-to-know-yous.’ She shook Therese’s hand, told her she was glad to finally meet her, and threw in an embarrassing comment about not having met anybody Carol had dated since college. An exaggeration, though not a huge one. 

“She’s in her room, supposedly putting on her uniform but who knows what she’s doing now?” As she walked back to the kitchen to finish the dishes, she called out, “Rindy, your mom is home!”

_That_ got her moving. Rindy ran from her room and crashed into Carol’s leg. She had actually put on the yellow t-shirt and blue shorts she needed to wear, which was surprising. Carol looked behind her where Therese stood and stared, sporting a small forced smile. “Hey, Rindy, remember my friend who I wanted you to meet? This is Therese.”

Rindy skipped any pleasantries to confirm that, yes, Therese was coming to her soccer game. The next pressing question was if Therese knew anything about soccer, because Carol did not. 

“I played soccer for ten years.” A revelation that was news to Carol as well, and her eyes went wide along with Rindy’s, who suddenly seemed to have all the information she required. When Therese told her she could show her some cool tricks, she rushed to put on her shoes, apparently ready to leave, never mind that her game wasn’t for another hour and a half. Abandoning the idea of straightening up the apartment before they left, Carol bent to Rindy’s wishes and let herself and Therese be ushered back out the door again. Abby hadn’t been wrong when she said that Option B required a lot of work, but the payoff was more than worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was set to the Talking Heads' song "This Must Be the Place."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I should probably finish these next chapters to my two unfinished stories with this sliver of free time.  
My brain: You should totally write another chapter to a story you claimed to have finished twice that absolutely nobody asked for, just to make everyone frustrated.

When Therese’s mother told Therese that she’d bought their small but fine-for-them two bedroom, one bathroom townhouse in yet another boring town in northern New Jersey, Therese was seven years old and stuck on the word ‘bought.’ Bought, not rented. She was convinced that they’d made it, they were finally rich. After years of moving from apartment to apartment, school to school, Therese was certain that staying in one place for more than a year was reserved for families that had money, and now she was a part of one of those families. 

It didn’t matter to Therese that the only reason they could afford the townhouse was thanks to the death of her mom’s grandmother, who’d left her a very modest sum of money upon her passing. It didn’t matter that the kitchen was outdated and her room was dark and the carpet smelled like cigarette smoke. It didn’t even matter that her mom said that, because they bought a house, they couldn’t go to Six Flags for Therese’s eighth birthday in the spring.

Therese could have friends, and that was what mattered. 

But still, there was a nuanced, yet accidental cruelty in planning a school bus route that dropped off some students to neighborhoods like her classmate Jacqueline Taft’s - undeniably a grouping of the the town's most expensive houses - and then immediately drove to the area where Therese lived: a smattering of run-down apartment buildings and tiny, colorless townhouses to drop off the rest. 

Jacqueline and Therese hadn’t talked much in class. Naturally shy, Therese hadn’t talked to much of anyone since she’d moved - but Jacqueline plopped down next to her one day on the bus ride home and asked, out-of-the-blue, in the way that only children could, “will you come to my house for a sleepover on Friday after school?” 

Therese had no choice but to say yes. She had to ask her mom, of course, but her mom said, “sure,” and Jacqueline seemed taken aback the next day at her prompt agreeance, “doesn’t she have to meet my parents first?”

No, Therese’s mom definitely did not. She didn’t really care, Therese said. 

Spending that Friday night at Jacqueline’s - the first of many, _many_ to follow - Therese realized what it was that made her jealous of the other kids at her school. It wasn’t their big houses or constant array of new clothes, but it was something much less tangible. When Jacqueline’s mom got home from work, she asked them what they did at school, she asked Therese what her favorite subject was, what things she liked to do in her free-time. Their kitchen had kid-food in it: they ate fruit snacks and baby carrots with some kind of yogurt dip, and when Jacqueline’s dad made dinner, he asked Therese if she liked pepperoni on her pizza (she didn’t, and he only put them on Jacqueline’s half). At Therese’s house, the only snacks were things her mom liked, and when her mom bought frozen pizza, she just made Therese pick the pepperoni off of her slices. 

It showed itself in different ways - Therese’s mom never went to parent-teacher conferences, she’d leave permission slips unsigned, despite Therese practically nailing them to the center of the refrigerator door, Therese’s mom definitely didn’t know Therese’s favorite subject in school, and rarely entertained her hobbies. On Friday nights, her mom rented movies that only she wanted to watch, and Therese would read books by herself in her room. 

At Jacqueline’s, her mom took them to Blockbuster and let them pick out _two_ movies - just in case - and made them popcorn and helped them build a fort out of blankets and cushions in the basement. On top of it all, Jacqueline was probably the best friend Therese had ever met. Therese decided she never wanted to leave Jacqueline and her family. 

And over the next two decades, she barely ever did. She was eleven when she started spending Thanksgiving with them, and at age twenty-eight, even with Jacqueline freshly married, it wasn’t any different. Since moving out for college, there were some years that Therese would stop by her mom’s to say hi before heading to Jacqueline’s, but other times she decided not to bother. 

This year, though, Therese had exciting news to share, and she constantly was trying to share it with anybody willing to listen. She was too happy and smitten and proud to not be able to shut the fuck up. The ‘news’ was Carol, obviously, that she’d met her and they were dating and despite it still being very new - only three months or so in the making - it just felt extremely _right_. And though she hadn’t said it out loud to anyone, she had that, “when you know…” feeling. 

The route from the Morristown Line train station to her mom’s place was a short one, less than a mile, and Therese tried to enjoy the walk, focusing on the hustle of people scrambling in and out of the grocery store or bakery (the only stores open on Thanksgiving), doing her best to calm her anxiety that seemed to grow with each step. As luck would have it, Therese’s mom was outside when Therese walked up to the building, unloading bags from her car under the carport. Therese was going to call out to her before she got closer, not wanting to scare her, but her mom turned and saw her before she needed to. 

She didn’t look startled or surprised, but she still asked, “what are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.”

Her mom turned to grab the last bag from the trunk. “You didn’t call.”

Therese kept her arms folded to her chest. “It’s Thanksgiving.”

“Since when does that matter?”

Not looking to pursue an argument, Therese just shrugged. Okay. “Well, _hi.”_

Her mom cracked a little. Kind of. Forced a tight lipped smile and said, “right, _hi_. Glad you came by.”

Unconvinced, Therese asked, “can I help you bring stuff inside?”

“No need. These are the last bags.” Thankfully her mom nodded toward the building and said, “c’mon, let’s get inside,” because for a second, Therese wasn’t sure she was going to be invited in. 

Now, standing in the living room, running a finger over the dust collected on the narrow mantle above the fireplace, Therese glanced around the room as her mom put away groceries, not paying Therese much attention. It was like time had stood still. The same beige carpet covered the floor, peppered with faded stains from years of sucking up soda and liquor spills, soil from shoes left on. The sofa had changed - only once. Therese had long been moved out when her mother said enough was enough to her lumpy, sunken, blue monstrosity that had been with the house since the day they’d moved in, a more tasteful brown couch taking its place. Her mother even still worked at the same Target on Elm Ridge. She’d briefly spent time as a department manager at another location 25 miles out - it had been a promotion that came with a meager raise - but the travel was barely worth the money and the title, especially in her unreliable Honda Accord, though she stuck it out until a similar position opened up at Elm Ridge six months later.

Her mom’s boyfriend - a fixture in the mealy, rust-colored armchair - hadn’t changed since 2006. He was part of the reason Therese sometimes spent one or two weeks in a row at Jacqueline’s house in high school. He was loud and harsh and often drunk, qualities that mellowed out as he got older. Jeff had always had a somewhat-steady job doing HVAC. He was absolutely no model citizen, but he’d had a far better track record than the dozen or so predecessors her mom had let come and go.

Finally her mom opened her mouth, telling Therese about a spat at work that had finally been settled. It was the conclusion of a story Therese had heard the last time she’d called her mother - in September. There was more chat about work, and then about the four friends who were coming for dinner, “so I gotta get started here soon,” and then the conversation ended without Therese sharing a single bit about herself. And she wouldn’t be asked, so she decided to just say what she wanted, unprompted.

“I’m seeing somebody.” Therese neared the sofa but still didn’t sit. Instead she ran her knuckles back and forth along the back cushion, standing behind it like she may need a crutch. She looked down and bit her cheek to keep herself from grinning. “It’s pretty serious. I think it is, at least.”

Her mom didn’t look up from the recipe she was reviewing, she asked, “oh really?” and Jeff only barely glanced in her direction. 

“Yeah, her name is Carol.”

At least this time Therese saw her mother pause briefly, eyebrows raised and the corner of her mouth twitch slightly, before saying, “‘her?’ Since when are you dating _women_, Therese?”

“Since, like...forever?” 

When Therese had thought that maybe she was interested in women, she’d been freaked out, as expected of someone experiencing any type of sexual reckoning at the age of sixteen. Jacqueline’s dad’s brother was gay, though. She’d known this for years, after spending ample time with him and his boyfriend at hosts of Jacqueline’s family functions. It made her slightly less terrified to reveal her secret to Jacqueline one night as they walked back to Jacqueline’s house from a party thrown by Lauren Jacobson, a little tipsy and laughing too hard on the dimly lit sidewalks. 

During a lull in their conversation, Therese blurted out, “I think I might like girls. And guys. I don’t know.” 

And Jacqueline smiled, not sweetly, not patronizing, but conspiratorially, and said, “yeah, I know. I mean, I think so too. That you do, I mean.”

With a wash of relief, Therese laughed too hard and Jacqueline began giggling right along with her, and would’ve kept it up had the porch light of the house they’d stopped in front of not turned on, triggering the menacing bark of a dog and the possible threat of a scolding from a stranger at well past midnight. They’d ran back to Jacqueline’s, sneaking in through the walk-out basement sliding door. Jacqueline hadn’t brought it up in any inorganic way after the fact, choosing instead to ask Therese if she thought _he_ was hot, or _she_ was hot, soon hounding her about the girls in their class like she did about the guys. She never once blinked. 

Therese’s mom was a different story. “‘Since forever?’ _Sure._ Well, it’s the first I’ve heard of it. Where’d you even meet this girl?”

“She isn’t a ‘girl,’ she’s forty-one years old. She has a five-year-old daughter.”

That got her mother’s attention, and she let out one loud, condescending scoff before turning to Therese, “a daughter? So she wants your money. I’ve always thought you were too trusting, Therese. You’re too generous— ”

“Jesus, mom! She’s not after my money! She owns her own business; she planned Jacqueline’s wedding. That’s how I met her. She’s doing just fine without me.” 

Unfeeling as ever, her mom put away the last of the groceries and began pulling back out the things needed for dinner, leaving Therese to flounder for her attention, her approval, like she was once again thirteen and begging her mom to be proud of her report card, instead of tossing it aside and asking Therese why she didn’t work as hard to keep the house clean as she did on her schoolwork. But Therese couldn’t help herself, and so she kept talking, kept trying. 

“I just thought you’d be happy that I found someone and that I’m finally in a serious - ”

Shutting the fridge with a dominating _thud_, her mom silenced Therese and let out a short, sharp laugh. “I’ll be very happy for you once you’re in an actual serious relationship, not this time suck.”

Before she could fire back, remind her mother that she was hardly the authority on what a serious and healthy relationship involved, the halt of the noise from the television turned off by Jeff brought both Therese and her mom’s attention to him. His arms were crossed and he was staring hard at Therese. “Maybe you should listen to her, Joyce.” 

“What?”

Therese was also shocked, “yeah…_what?”_

Even as Jeff explained, “she’s not exactly forthcoming with details about her personal life, maybe this really is something special,” her mom pretended to tune out, occupying herself with sorting ingredients on the kitchen table. 

“Finally, something useful after thirteen years, fucking thank you, Jeff!” Knowing it was among the last words she’d be allowed to get in, Therese picked up her purse from the sofa and swung it over her shoulder. 

Suddenly no longer distracted, her mom slammed her fist down on the counter and began yelling for Therese to “apologize or get out.”

“Way ahead of you.” And out the door she went, shutting it so hard the swore the building shook. 

She was practically running from the building, which felt futile, because even years of creating physical distance from her mom hadn’t helped Therese distance herself emotionally. Not completely, like she wanted. No matter how hard Therese tried, there was still some stupid, stubborn ounce of her attempting to gain approval from her mother. As time passed, the need lessened, but she’d never be able to whittle it out of existence. 

After a couple blocks she slowed her pace, there was no need to run, nobody was coming after her. There was a small park with a creek and not a lot of traffic that she could cut through to get to Jacqueline’s parents’ house, instead of weaving through the cluster of streets dubbed “downtown.” It would only add a couple of extra minutes and she had time to kill, so Therese turned sharply off the sidewalk and made her way through manicured green grass. 

A bench with one of those “in memory of” plaques sat a few feet from the edge of the creek, and Therese brushed off the crunchy dead leaves that covered the seat. She sat down, pinched the bridge of her nose, and thought about what a fucking bitch her mom was. 

Instinctively, she called Carol. 

Similar to the reflex of picking up her phone and opening Instragram for no reason other than habit, she’d become used to calling Carol when she just wanted to talk. Until now, though, she’d handedly avoided calling Carol when she was stressed or upset. Carol had a lot of “other peoples’ stresses” to care for already, and she didn’t want to contribute to that. 

When the phone stopped ringing, Carol didn’t immediately greet Therese. Instead Therese listened to muffled chatter in the background and Carol saying, “yeah, I’ll be right back,” followed by the close of a door and then, “hey, babe.” The background noise quieted.

Therese tried - she really did - to not sound sad, but just hearing a family’s amicable get-together (_god_ she couldn’t wait to get to Jacqueline’s) made her wish for something better than her own. She tried, but her voice broke a little, even just saying, “hey.”

“What’s wrong? What’s going on?” 

An attempted deep inhale turned into something sharp, and Therese winced at the sound. She hadn’t wanted to alarm Carol or anything. “Nothing. I just wanted to say ‘hi.’”

It was less than convincing. Especially when _“hi” _came out as a small, pathetic squeak.

“Wait. Therese. Babe, what happened?”

She hated herself for worrying Carol, for demanding her attention on a day she was trying to spend time with her family. But she still blurted out everything that had happened with her mother. The frosty greeting, the lack of interest, how dumb she’d been to get even a little bit excited to tell her about Carol, something that had gone over like a ton of bricks, and how the entire time, Therese had just felt so uncomfortable. It wasn’t her home anymore. It really never had been. 

While Therese sniffled, Carol repeated, “I’m so sorry,” and added, “I wish I was there. I mean, I could be. It’s only like, what? An hour and fifteen to get there from Manhasset. And traffic is super - ”

“Oh my god, Carol. No! Absolutely not. I’ll be fine. Once I get to Jacqueline’s I’ll forget all about it. Just tell me about your day or something. I don’t want to think about this anymore.”

“Well, it’s been pretty boring, truth be told. I was banished from the kitchen because apparently there are too many people and I’m low-ish on the totem pole of helpers. And listen, I’m a good cook, I promise. But my aunt and cousin are literally professional chefs.”

“_Sure.”_

Carol laughed and Therese felt better already. She got up to continue walking to Jacqueline’s as Carol continued, “I’m probably not as good as you, but still. Oh! My 96-year-old grandmother implied that her and my grandpa were _swingers_ in the 70s, so my dad is on the verge of a heart attack. Other than that, not much to report.”

Therese smiled and let a moment of comfortable silence pass. She could hear Rindy and another kid - probably Carol’s cousin’s daughter, playing in the background. Therese wished she was with Carol. She loved going to Jacqueline’s parents’ house - she really couldn’t wait to get there, but she missed Carol, too. She wanted to be in two places at once. Two places where things just felt right. Fusing the two groups together would’ve been ideal. 

As Therese strolled through the park, getting closer to the Taft house, her and Carol lazily went over what they might decide to do the next day - they both ensured clear schedules so they could spend the day together, Rindy included, of course, considering she had the day off from school. They considered doing something interesting, like a museum or the park, but maybe they’d just hang around Carol’s apartment. It would be a first for the three of them. Therese didn’t mind, though. She wanted it. Welcomed the idea, really. 

The street of Jacqueline’s childhood home came up quicker than anticipated and Therese found herself saying goodbye to Carol earlier than she wished - but she had the feeling Carol needed to get back to her family, even when she insisted she didn’t. _Something_ more important than Therese must’ve awaited her. 

The driveway leading up to Jacqueline’s parents’ house was cobblestone and had a slight incline. It was beautiful to look at, but its practicality when they were growing up left much to be desired. Like once when they were nine, Jacqueline thought putting on her new rollerblades in the garage was a good idea, that she’d make it to the street unscathed were she careful enough. After tumbling down the majority of the driveway, nearly all of her body was covered in scratches and it took her months to gather the courage to rollerblade again. Their junior year of high school, Jacqueline’s parents left town for the weekend and Jacqueline and Therese threw what was later dubbed, “a legendary house party.” They did everything right: spent hours the next day picking up cans and bottles from the yard, scouring the house for anything that looked out of place, emptied all of the trash cans and drove the bags to dumpster blocks away. Overlooked, however, were the dozen or so cigarette butts slotted between the stones of the driveway. Jacqueline was grounded for a week. Therese was allowed over, but somehow grounded by Jacqueline’s parents, as well.

Situated at the top of the driveway was their elaborate Arts and Crafts-style house that always felt like a mansion to Therese, even as she got older and more used to the space. It stood out among the other homes in the area. Most others were colonial, a few had a farmhouse look to them. The Taft’s house was obviously the best on the block, though, Therese was convinced it wasn’t her affection for the people inside swaying her analysis. It really was a beautiful house. 

Before she reached the walkway leading to the porch, the forest green front door swung open. “Well there you are! Finally!” Susan Taft was dramatic. She wasn’t too loud and definitely not bubbly, but she was overzealous in the best way and often spoke in hyperbole like Jacqueline. “You were supposed to be here hours ago.” She left her arms outstretched waiting for Therese to walk over and into a hug. 

“What are you talking about? It’s 3pm, the exact time I told you I’d be here. I can show you the text.”

She obviously wasn’t mad, and she squeezed Therese too tight and ushered her into the foyer. She didn’t bother taking Therese’s coat or bag, trusting her to know where to put her things like she had been for years. 

“I know you said 3pm, but you usually come a couple hours early.”

That was true. Therese handed Susan the wine she’d brought and hung her coat in the closet. “Well, I went to see my mom.”

“Oh! How is - ”

Therese effectively cut Susan off with a single wave of her hand in her direction and shook her head. “Mm-mm.”

“No?”

“Let’s just not.”

“Okay.” 

It was easy to get distracted because Susan _insisted_ she needed help with everything. She was running behind and Jacqueline’s dad, who usually helped cook, was late picking up his brother from the airport and Dannie had decided to start liking football (probably in an attempt to bond more with Jacqueline’s brothers), so he was out. Jacqueline was walking the dog and also a terrible cook. Therese had no issue being put to work. She’d wash lettuce, and chop potatoes, and blanch green beans all day long when the first conversation starter out of Susan’s mouth was: “so how are things with Carol?”

Susan _loved_ that kind of talk and Therese happily indulged. After having spent time with Carol over the past year while she planned Jacqueline and Dannie’s wedding, Susan knew Carol fairly well. Enough that Therese didn’t need to sell her on Carol, list all of her endlessly wonderful qualities. “Things are, like, super great.” Therese felt herself blushing and tried to hide it by peering into the boiling pot of potatoes in front of her. 

“Yeah? How is it dating someone with a kid? Is it hard?”

“Not at all. I mean, it’s different. We have to plan things in advance. I can’t just text her and be like ‘hey, want to come over?’ But that’s almost better because we actually do stuff. It makes every other relationship I’ve been in seem so boring. Everyone I’ve ever dated didn’t enjoy doing anything besides going to, like, one bar all the time.”

Therese wasn’t naive. She knew most relationships involved doing nothing in particular with each other most of the time. She’d love to do the boring stuff with Carol, too, if they spent more time together. Sitting on Carol’s sofa night after night, talking or not talking, sounded like a dream, but Carol’s situation didn’t allow for it. So when they did see each other, they went to dinner, or lunch, they planned things. Just last week, they went to Hoboken to ride those e-scooters that were banned in New York, “they were really stupid and really fun,” the week before that they went to the Public and saw_ A Bright Room Called Day,_ “not quite ‘fun,’ more depressing, but you get what I’m saying.”

It wasn’t until Jacqueline returned from walking the dog that Therese realized how long she’d been going on - over twenty minutes had gone by since she’d gotten there. She suddenly felt embarrassed for monopolizing the discussion. “Sorry, I don’t mean to keep talking about Carol.”

“I asked, don’t apologize.”

Jacqueline added, “are you kidding? She’s been waiting for this. I’m married now so you’re the only kid left when an exciting, fun relationship for her to salivate over. Did you tell her you get to spend time with Carol’s daughter now?”

Therese had not, which caused some controversy, because _how could she possibly be keeping this part of the story from Mrs. Taft?_ Apparently it was a huge deal. Prepping and cooking quickly ceased as Therese was demanded to elaborate. She went into detail as the three of them stood around the kitchen’s center island, dinner falling far behind in importance to Therese’s story, where it remained abandoned until Jacqueline’s dad arrived home from the airport to scramble to save it on time.


End file.
